


Teacher, Teacher.

by justarunawaywriter



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Student!Sherlock, Teacher!John
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-01-11 05:33:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1169291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justarunawaywriter/pseuds/justarunawaywriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock returns to Baker Street Comprehensive for his last year of sixth form, he is desperately wishing that the year ahead would go quickly and he could start his dream life in London, the arrival of a new teacher has the potential to change his mind. Whilst the pair are quick to develop a strong friendship, will it go any further? Teacher!John, Student!Sherlock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lateness (new)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock returns to Baker Street Comprehensive for his last year of sixth form, only to meet, and develop a crush on, the new Biology teacher, Mr Watson. But does John feel the same? Teacher!John, Student!Sherlock. Rated M for content in later chapters. (All feedback is welcomed openly).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a revamped chapter of the original fic, I will be quickly updating the other chapters and posting as soon as possible. For those following the story I promise to get to writing the new chapters quickly.

Shit. Sherlock was late and it was only his first day back after the summer. Bloody Mycroft, insisting that he would drive Sherlock in, only to make them late because he just had to take that call from which ever politician he was interning under nowadays. It wasn’t like he was starting his last year of sixth form or anything... Oh wait. On the bright side, he’d heard rumors that the school bully, Charlie Magnussen, who seemed to have a personal vendetta against him, had not received the grades needed to carry on in the thirteenth year. But at least, Sherlock thought, he now only had to endure this place a little longer and then he'd be free. Free of idiots like Charlie Magnussen. Free of Mycroft's control and watchful eye. Free to run away to London; it was Sherlock's dream. He shook his head, he had better not get ahead of himself, he still had to endure the year ahead.

The day ran by relatively normally, as usual Sherlock wandered from lesson to lesson, not really paying much attention. One thing he was thankful for, however, was that now he’d reached sixth form level of education he only had to study three subjects of his choice. Sherlock had chosen English, Biology and Law because they were the only subjects he could really tolerate. He also hoped that these subjects would aid him in his attempt to become the first ever Consulting Detective, a role in which he dreamed he’d be able to solve the mysteries that the police could not. Some days Sherlock selfishly resented his parents for not sent him to a private school, it just seemed a waste – to send him to a place he hated, to be taught things he already knew, by people who clearly didn't like him. The only redeeming feature that Baker Street Comprehensive (or BSC as it was also known) had to offer was that they allowed Sherlock to use music rooms in his free periods and lunch breaks, where he would spend most of his time playing the violin or reading over interesting reports he’d accessed from Mycroft’s ‘private’ files. It was safe to say that Sherlock spent most, if not all, of his free time in the music rooms at BSC, so much so that he often lost track of time. Today was no exception, he had found some recent crime stats in his brother’s files and by the time he’d finished reading over them it was quarter to three, fifteen minutes into his last lesson. Lateness was becoming a running theme.

By the time Sherlock arrived at the Biology lab there was only a handful of seats left, despite the smaller class sizes in sixth form, biology was a popular subject. Sherlock believed that this was down to the teachers of the class, Mr. Dior and Mr. Johnson, who both took a very laid-back approach to teaching – an attractive aspect to the more care free students at BSC. Sherlock decided to take a seat next to one of the only friendly faces in the class, belonging to a small, sweet girl by the name of Molly Hooper.  
"Sherlock you're just in time" Molly said, "Sir has shown up yet".  
Sherlock half-smiled in acknowledgement and bent down to get a pen from his bag. On his way up he came face to face with Charlie Magnussen and his trail of admirers behind him.  
“I see having a governor as a father really pays off” Sherlock gathered that Magnussen’s father must have used his position to keep his son in education, despite his lacking grades.  
Sherlock was met with a blank look on his tormenter’s face.  
"What do you want Magnussen?” he sighed, “were the holidays so dull that you just couldn't wait to see me again?"  
Magnussen grabbed Sherlock by his collar, "You think you're everything Sherlock, just because big brother Mycroft is always behind you backing you up. Well you're not. You're just a jumped up little shit who-".  
Before Magnussen could finish he found himself being tugged off of Sherlock.  
"I think that's quite enough mister...?" a male voice waited for a response.  
The guy was in his late twenties, Sherlock deduced, brand new to teaching, but definitely not going to be a pushover, and he was quite good looking too…  
"Magnussen, Charlie Magnussen" the boy retorted.  
"Well Mr Magnussen, I don't approve of bullying in my class. So I suggest you and your friends sit down now before I ask you to leave my class." The unnamed teacher released Magnussen, who proceeded to scuttle back to his seat.  
"Are you okay?" The mysterious teacher placed a hand on Sherlock's shoulder.  
"M'fine." Sherlock muttered, trying not to draw further attention to himself.  
"Good. Okay. So, I'm John Watson, but to you lot it is Mr. Watson. I’ll introduce myself properly in a second but let's get registration out of the way…"

Sherlock zoned out, there was something about the new teacher that intrigued him. Mr. Watson was the sort of teacher that could hold the attention of a class effortlessly. One who could flash a smile that melted the hearts of any, and every, female student and yet he seemed oblivious to his charm. He carried himself with a modest dignity; something Sherlock saw rarely walking the halls of Baker Street Comprehensive. However, what struck Sherlock the most was that his new teacher actually acknowledged him. During his time at BSC, the vast majority of teachers tended to ignore, or even actively avoid, him. Especially after the time that he deduced, quite correctly, that his English teacher, Mr. Lestrade, was being cheated on by his wife with another teacher at the school. This was not atypical of Sherlock’s schooling experience. It wasn't that anyone one said anything to his face, well apart from Magnussen and his gang, it was just that if they passed him in the corridor students, and teacher alike, tended to give him a wide berth. And of course, being the younger brother of Mycroft Holmes meant that his name already carried a reputation. He was lucky he even had Molly.

"Sherlock Holmes?" The sound of Mr. Watson's voice drifted back into the front of Sherlock's mind. "Yes, Sir."  
After finishing up with the register, the young teacher spoke to the class "Right, well formalities over and done with, maybe I should tell you a bit about myself." He took a moment to survey the room, glad to see they weren't drifting into boredom, but rather listening to him quite intently.  
"Your usual teacher, Mr. Dior, is currently taking a break from teaching. So you lucky bunch get to have me as your teacher for the rest of the year" he continued.  
"Probably the drugs again" Sherlock murmured, but to his horror, the entire class, including Mr. Watson, turned to look at him. Crap, he had meant to say that quieter.  
"Sorry?" Mr. Watson enquired.  
"Nothing, just an observation." Sherlock ducked his head, praying the ground to swallow him whole.  
"Careful Sir, you wanna watch Holmes, he's a freak. He knows about people, like their secrets and stuff." Sally Donovan, one of Magnussen's crew, called from the back of the room, resulting in a chorus of sniggering from the rest of the class.  
Much to Sherlock's relief, Mr. Watson raised his hands to silence the class. "Enough. Sally, comments like that aren't needed. But Sherlock, maybe in the future, it might be best to not make personal 'observations' about members of staff."  
With that Mr. Watson began to introduce their first topic of the term; it was something about genes that Sherlock had already filled away in his mind palace the previous term. But, for Mr. Watson's sake, Sherlock decided to at least try and look like he was engaging in the lesson.

It wasn't long before the bell rang out, signaling the end of the day. Sherlock waited for the majority of chairs to scrape across floors, for the gathering of pencils and pens to be done, before he, himself, packed up. He wanted to make Mycroft wait, a small revenge for being made late that morning.  
As he exited the room, Mr. Watson caught him by the arm. "Sherlock, could I have a word?"  
Sherlock groaned, he had thought that Mr. Watson was going to be an alright teacher, he really wasn't in the mood to be told off.  
"I'm curious Sherlock. Not that I should be confirming such rumors but, between us, how did you know about Mr. Dior's erm, let's say 'condition'?"  
Oh, he wasn't expecting that. "You mean apart from the weight loss and the tremors? Or maybe the permanent glazed look in his eyes?"  
John actually let out a chuckle. "So what Sally meant about you knowing people's secrets?"  
"No, any idiot could tell Mr. Dior was on something. What Sally was referring to was the way I can deduce things about people that others don't see."  
John nodded, "So could you do me? ... I mean, could you deduce me?"  
Sherlock studied the teacher, this was one of the longest conversations he'd had with pretty much anyone ever at BSC. Better still, it was one of the rare times he felt he could show off his skill and not be sneered at.  
"Okay, so you're in a long term relationship – I'd say roughly seven or eight years, you met at university – but not married. You used to own a black cat, although not your choice, you wanted a dog. You're a younger brother, but you don't get along with your older broth- no, not brother, sister. You wanted to be an army doctor but, presumably, the injury you sustained on you right leg put you out of action. Probably why you became a teacher, you didn't want to waste the training." Sherlock let out a long breath. "Was I close?"  
John just stared at Sherlock. "Close, that was brilliant" the teacher blurted out at Sherlock, who was starting to develop a slight blush.  
"Oh er, thank you, I-" Sherlock started, only to be interrupted by Mr. Watson, "You did get one thing wrong though, well not wrong entirely. I was in a long term relationship. Only, 'was' being the operative word. We broke up, me and Mary, about 2 weeks ago. And yes, we were together for seven years. I'm rambling now and I don't really know why I am telling you all of this".  
Mr. Watson exhaled deeply, "Sorry for the overshare, ignore me." He forced a smile and started again, "It's getting late, and you really should be heading home soon. Before you do though, how about if you teach me a bit of how you do that deduction trick, say lunchtime tomorrow, then maybe I won't report what you said about your previous teacher. Deal?"  
"Deal." Sherlock's replied, a bit too sudden than he would've liked.  
Mr. Watson all but beamed. "Great. I don't think you have Biology tomorrow, so I'll see you lunchtime. Bye Sherlock."  
"Bye John." Sherlock began, but was met with a raised eyebrow.  
"Sorry. Bye Mr. Watson." He corrected, picking up his messenger bag. 

Sherlock headed out of the classroom, passed the school gates and into the car park. In which, in his convertible and donned in his usual three-piece, Mycroft was sat waiting, tapping a four beat tune on the steering wheel.  
"You're late." He stated.  
"It's becoming a theme, isn't it?" Sherlock deadpanned.  
"Tardiness is not a quality you want to keep Sherlock." Mycroft replied, pulling out of the car park. "What where you doing anyway?"  
"Talking to someone." The younger Holmes said bluntly.  
"Who?" inquired Mycroft, ever the nosy one.  
"Just a friend." Sherlock answered, ending the conversation by getting out his iPod and popping in the ear buds. He missed the look of confusion, followed by concern that crossed his brother's face.


	2. Logic

The following day Sherlock was even more distant in class than he usually was as he was sat anticipating his lunch with Mr. Watson. He'd been kept awake all night by thoughts of his Biology teacher, Sherlock knew nothing could become of it but he chalked it up to his first teenage crush. Mycroft would be appalled. And, it seemed, he wasn't the only one to be taken by John Watson, practically every female student appeared to share Sherlock's crush for the teacher, despite him only being there for two days now. Increasingly, Mr. Watson's offer of lunch made Sherlock feel all the more special. As far as he knew, and Sherlock prided himself on being 'plugged in' to all the school gossip, he was the only student to be ask by Mr. Watson to join him out of class.  
With just under half an hour to go before lunch Sherlock was feeling positively giddy, and quite frankly, it scared him. He always believed he could trust his emotions, right up until he met John Watson. Who chose to see his brilliance, not his arrogance, who marveled at, rather than mocked, his talent. Who had made him, for the first time in his life, look forward to school.

Sherlock studied the clock, only ten minutes to go; he sighed and willed the lesson to be over. It was only Law; however, it was a topic that he had already studied at great length. Sherlock sat back as his fellow classmates were discussing the case of Roberts (1971) in relation to the contribution of a victim’s own acts in relation to their death. Boring. Yes, he wanted to make a career in catching criminals and solving crimes, but what happened to those criminal after he proved their guilt could not matter less to him. For him it was about the chase, the rush of deduction, the thrill of the game, the potential danger. It was all he could dream about, well until John Watson came into his life. But it was a dream he knew he’d have to pursue in London – nothing exciting ever happened in his little village. 

Two minutes to go. He decided to pack up prematurely, not wanting to waste a second of his time with John.  
"Holmes!" Dimmock shouted. The young teacher did not dislike Sherlock per say, he definitely admired the boy’s flare for his subject, but rather he did not always have the patience for him.   
Sherlock snapped back to attention, "Yes?" he did not want to give Mr. Dimmock a reason to hold him back after class but he was anxious to leave as soon as he could.  
"For once Holmes, can you at least act like you are partaking in the lesson" the teacher returned.  
"Considering it's what…" Sherlock paused to look at the clock, "thirty-seven second to go, I would say it's rather pointless now, wouldn't you?"  
Dimmock didn't get a chance to reply, or, if he did, Sherlock chose to ignore it as the bell had just rang and it was finally lunchtime. Sherlock couldn't get to the Biology lab quick enough and consequently ended up crashing into nearly every student he passed in the corridors. As soon as he reached the door of the lab he suddenly very nervous. What if, after getting to know Sherlock more, John decided that he didn't like him after all? 'Come on Sherlock, man up!' he thought to himself and took a deep breath, pushing against the door and entering the lab.

"Hey, Sherlock" Mr. Watson greeted him with a warm smile as he finished collecting left-out textbooks from his last lesson.  
"Hi Mr. Watson" Sherlock replied as he took a seat on top of John's desk.  
"Please Sherlock, when we're not in class, call me John. Mr. Watson is my dad; I'm still not used to the name." With the last of the textbooks put away John pulled out the chair at his desk as sat beside Sherlock. "I know this is probably a little odd, I have only been your teacher for a day, but what you did the other day was genius, I'm quite intrigued.  
Sherlock's cheeks pinked, "Thank you John".  
John looked like a child about to find out how a magician accomplished his trick. "Come on then, spill. You said you'd teach me a bit about how you deduct."  
"Well it's simple really. I observe everything. From what I observe, I deduce everything. When I've eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how mad it might seem, must be the truth. For instance, when I deduced that you used to own a black cat, I first observed the scratches on the back of your hand. From the size and depth of the scratches I deduced that they were caused from a feline. I then deduced that you had recently given up the animal, I had observed that the cuts were relatively new but were somewhat faded. Now, that could just mean that the cat stopped scratching you, maybe you stopped petting it. However, as you never wanted the cat in the first place, it's pretty obvious you prefer the loyalty and companionship of a canine; I concluded that you gave the cat away. Lastly, the colour of the cat, this was the easiest – your coat still has the odd black hair on it. You see, it's all in the logic." Sherlock exhaled, he'd reeled that off without stopping.  
"Wow" John gaped.  
Sherlock was pleasantly surprised to see a look of wonder on the teacher's face. "That's not what people normally say."  
"What do people normally say?" John asked.  
Sherlock chuckled, "Piss off."  
John laughed in return, the crinkles around his eyes lighting up his face.  
"Although," Sherlock began again "I will admit my overlooking of your break up was quite shameful, all the signs were there. There was shaving foam behind your left ear. Nobody had pointed it out to you, traces of where it's happened before, so obviously you live on your own; there was no-one to tell you. Also, you're new to teaching. Most first-timers tend to teach at a local school to where they previously studied, there is only one university near here and you did not attend it. If you had you would have known exactly who Charlie Magnussen is – as he likes to remind everyone, his dad is the Superintendent at the Baker Street Police Department, and governor of the school. So, new to the area, resulting from a conscious move, and currently living alone, it's not a big leap."  
John grinned "Seriously Sherlock, what you can do… its bloody genius."  
"You're the only one who thinks so, well, unless you count my parents. And I certainly don't." Sherlock said, uncharacteristically bashful.  
"Ah," John thought back to the previous day, "You mean like Sally Donovan?"  
Sherlock scoffed, looking away "Hm, and the rest."  
John inched closer towards Sherlock, "Listen to me, the next time someone says, or does, something to you, you come and tell me and I will deal with them. Okay?"  
Sherlock stared at his teacher and nodded, managing a "Yes."  
"Good." John said, moving his hand to pat Sherlock on the back. "Now, I'll let you get off and have the last few minutes of lunch to yourself, and I will see you tomorrow, last period."  
Sherlock stood up; he was rather reluctant to leave.  
"Oh and Sherlock," John added as Sherlock gripped the handle of the door. "Feel free to come by any lunch time."  
"You mean that?" Sherlock asked, hoping John wasn't just being polite.  
"Of course," John insisted. "Come by tomorrow if you like, and seeing as I've taken up your entire lunch, you're welcome to bring food."  
"I look forward to it. Okay, well bye John."  
"Bye Sherlock."  
As Sherlock exited the room he took one final look at his Biology teacher, who had returned to tidying the class room, and felt a slight flush as he watched John bent down to pick a few discarded pencils up from off the floor.  
Mycroft really would be appalled.


	3. Growing Closer

As it always did after the first couple days back, Sherlock's school day soon fell into a routine. His lessons were pretty much the same as the previous year, however, as this was to be his last year, a lot of emphasis was placed on his final exams and what he would do once he left. The pressure was building from all sides as both his teachers and his family were constantly on at him to start looking at different universities. The thing was, he just didn’t want to go to university – it wasn’t for him. He saw no point in spending another three years of his life wasting his time with teachers and essays and exams. Not when he could be out there finding cases and clients. At least Mycroft understood, that he was grateful for. His older brother had secured himself an internship inside Downing Street, complete with company car and two-bedroom flat. Sherlock hadn’t given Mycroft the option of refusing to let him stay with him, and although Mycroft would be earning enough for the both of them Sherlock promised that he’d find a way to support himself. But he was getting ahead of himself, even though he wasn’t going to be applying for a university place, Sherlock was determined to get the best grades he could – for his parent’s sake and maybe even a little for John. His mind couldn’t help but wander onto his new biology teacher. It had been a few weeks since they first spent time alone together and he had spent every lunch, and break for that matter, there ever since. The two were quickly developing a strong friendship. Even their lunches had a routine; Sherlock would walk straight into the lab, never knocking first, and sit down on top of the desk adjacent to John's own. John would then proceed to lecture Sherlock on the importance of eating, "but John you know digestion slows down my ability to think, and anyway, I ate breakfast this morning, so I don't think I'm going to die of malnutrition right this second". As agreed, John allowed Sherlock to conduct experiments, ranging from simple analyses of poisons to in-depth studies of tobacco ash, within the biology lab, on the basis that Sherlock would explain his methods of deduction to John as he worked. Prior to their lunches Sherlock had conducted his experiments in solitude, often having to lock his bedroom door to keep Mycroft from pestering him and, occasionally, deliberately messing up his tests. But now he had come to relish the company of John, who would, every now and then, chime in with a question that Sherlock would only be too happy to leap into a full explanation of and answer. The questions were usually based on the investigate Sherlock was conducting, except for the odd question about how ethical John letting Sherlock lead said investigations actually was. However, John asked a slightly different question at their lunch that day.  
"Hey Sherlock?" John queried, watching the younger man as he worked.  
"Uh huh?" Sherlock replied, only somewhat paying attention.  
John moved a step closer to Sherlock, who was currently dropping small amounts of blood into a test-tube, and leaned against the desk. "Before you started coming here at break and lunch, where did you go? Because, and don't take this the wrong way, you don't seem the most sociable of people."  
Sherlock snorted, "You could say that, yeah." He paused, slotting the test-tube into the rack and turned back to face John. "I'd go to the music room; they let me practice in there."  
John looked mildly surprised. "You play an instrument?"  
"Violin." Sherlock answered, continuing on with his experiment.  
"Clarinet." John matched.  
Sherlock quickly glanced over John, “I know. Your fingers are slightly shorter in proportion to your palms, consistent with playing a musical instrument that places pressure on your fingertips at a young age."  
“I should’ve guessed,” John chuckled "there's not much you don't know, or haven't deduced, about me anymore. But thinking about it, in comparison I really know nothing about you Sherlock" replied John.  
"There's not a lot to tell really" Sherlock said.  
"What about family?" John began, "I recall you mentioning a brother once but not anyone else."  
"Like I said, not much to tell." Sherlock replied, pausing to think. "Two parents, Violet and William Holmes, one brother, Mycroft, and no pets. Not the most interesting of biographies."  
"Okay, next question," said John "what do you want to do after you leave BSC?"  
That was an easy one. "I’m going to go stay with Mycroft, he starts his internship in Downing Street in March and he said I can stay with him whilst I set up my business. I'm going to be the world's first Consulting Detective."  
"Consulting Detective?" John asked.  
"I'll be there to help out the police with unsolved cases, see to private clients who need my deduction skills, that sort of thing." Sherlock answered proudly.  
"Ah, most likely I'll still be here in Baker Street; nowhere else to go for me. No exciting adventure." John looked a little forlorn.  
"Well, you could always come with me…" Sherlock grinned, wanting to make John smile.  
Instead of a cocky, arguably borderline flirty remark from John, the latter seem to consider the proposal seriously. This, in turn, led Sherlock down the same train of thought. Surely there was no way it could work; this schoolboy crush on John was one thing – but the possibility of reciprocated feelings? No. There wasn't a chance. However, before the pair could voice their thoughts, the bell signaling the end of lunch rung out.  
"Looks like we lost track of time again Sherlock" John said, flashing a smile; his previous display of emotion forgotten.  
Sherlock smiled back and gathered his things. "I have English next, but I'll see you last period."  
"See ya." John called out as Sherlock left the classroom.

John returned to his desk and pulled up the register as his tutorial class filed in. He hadn't meant to be so pathetic around Sherlock whilst they were talking about London, but John couldn't help it. Ever since he had been discharged from the army he desperately missed the excitement and adventure that came with being a soldier. Well, until he met Sherlock, that boy had lit a flicker of wonder inside John, what with his incredible intellect and the sense of mystery that followed him. 'Huh', the constant thrill-seeking part John thought, maybe he should go with Sherlock after all. John had to stop himself in his thoughts. It was not appropriate for a teacher to be thinking about one of his students like that. But Sherlock wasn’t just his student, John felt as if the pair had become good friends as they bonded over the last couple of weeks. John had thought that his lunchtime appointments with Sherlock would’ve raised a few eyebrows among the faculty, but the other teachers actually seemed grateful – apparently Sherlock was known to ruffle a few feathers around the school. John supposed that his colleagues were just pleased that he was able to mentor the younger Holmes and help keep him focused in classes. As long as no one questioned his budding friendship with Sherlock, John did not mind. He had grown very fond of the boy.  
At that moment a paper airplane flew past John, narrowly missing the side of John’s head, snapping him out of his thoughts about Sherlock. C’mon John. He scolded himself, it wasn’t like him to get all doe-eyed, he felt like a teenager again. John picked up the paper airplane, threw it back to the student who had launched it and began calling out the register for his tutorial group.


	4. A Day of Firsts

English had always been a subject Sherlock enjoyed, and even though he’d already read King Lear at least three times, and had written a number of academic articles on Shakespeare, he still threw himself into the lesson wholeheartedly in an attempt to keep himself busy until his next lesson – biology.   
In fact, as Greg Lestrade – Sherlock's English teacher – had noticed, the entire class appeared to work twice as hard during his fifth period lesson. Greg figured it was most likely an attempt by his students to earn favor with him so that he would let them out early, meaning they would get to John Watson’s lesson on time and secure a good seat. Greg wouldn’t like to admit to himself but he was a bit jealous oh John. John has become a bit of a legend at Baker Street Comprehensive over the last month, with both the staff and the pupils. He was engaging and 'cool' enough that he was loved by the students, but at the same time he wasn't trying so hard that the other teachers disliked him. This was a fact that had all but passed John by. Yes, he realized that he was lucky enough to be liked by practically everyone – bar the few 'the world is against me' angsty teenagers– but he had never really cared about the opinions of others, until Mary, that was. And, he thought, until Sherlock. John didn’t have to think hard to find similarities between Mary and Sherlock, as odd a comparison as it would first seem. They were both incredibly intelligent, and aware of it, they both were ambitious and never afraid to speak their minds. The only difference then perhaps was that when it came to his relationship with Mary, the two just stopped making time for each other. Mary spent most nights working, she worked for a high-tech security firm and did not usually make it home till the early hours of the morning. However, as John spent most of his days studying to get his teaching degree, the pair would be lucky if they shared more than just a few hours together – and even luckier if this time was something other than just sleeping next to each other. It didn’t take a genius to know that John and Mary’s relationship was bond to fizzle out. Still, that’s not to say that it John was not still a little hurt when he came home one day to find all of Mary’s belonging packed up in boxes, it had not been an easy decision to just let her walk out the door that day.

John sighed, he did not want to be feeling sorry for himself anymore, he’d spent too long regretting past choices. However, today was a good day, not only was he about to announce an exciting trip for his year thirteen class, but that class had Sherlock in it and the younger male never failed to put a smile on John’s face. John watched as thirty-something students filed into the biology lab. He had been looking forward to his last lesson all day; the school board had finally approved his plans to take his sixth form class to the Natural Science Museum in London. John's granddad, an army doctor himself and John's childhood hero had taken him to the Museum for his sixth birthday and proceeded to do so for every birthday until John turned twelve. Grandpa Watson had died a mere month before John's twelfth birthday, this trip would be the first time John had been to the Museum without his granddad.  
"Right class" John began, standing up to shut the door as the last student skidded in, "who here has been to the Natural Science Museum in London before?" A few hands grazed the air.  
"Okay, let's try again. Who wants to ditch school in three weeks’ time and come with me to London to go to the Natural Science Museum?" Twenty-eight hands rose in the air.  
"Thought so." John chucked and started to hand out permission slips. "All you need to do is get these signed and return them a week before the trip, on the twenty-sixth, and you're good to go."  
John reached Sherlock and passed over a form, resting a hand on his shoulder he bent down and whispered, "You can kick start your Consulting Detective business". John continued on to the rest of the students and watched out of the corner of his eye as Sherlock grinned at him.  
"So, all excitement out of the way, time to learn about the nervous system." John said as he gave out the last slip, chuckling as a unanimous groan sounded through the class.   
"Oh guys, your enthusiasm is sooo encouraging" he added as he loaded the power point for the following lesson.  
Sherlock started copying down the information from John's presentation, not that he didn't already know that receptors are groups of specialized cells that can detect changes in the environment called stimuli, or that they are often located in the sense organs, or that each organ has receptors sensitive to particular kinds of stimulus. But he had promised John that he would at least try and participate in the class. Not to mention, Sherlock wanted to get further into John's good books so that when it came to the date of the trip he might be able to sit next to his teacher on the train – giving him even more time alone with John. The lesson ran by relatively quickly, Sherlock never felt as if he had enough time with John and certainly not time where he could be his usual self, not with Magnussen ad his friends around in the class. As always Mycroft would be picking him up after class in order to drive the pair home, his older brother worked in the local council building and so could get Sherlock on his own way back to the Holmes household. Normally Sherlock would find small amusement in wanting to make Mycroft wait for him, however today Sherlock was eager to get home early and get his mother to sign the form for the school trip. When the bell signaled the end of the day, he decided to pack up with the rest of his peers and actually leave on time for once. However, he still made sure to say goodbye to John, smiling at his friend as he left the room.

It took Sherlock all of two minutes to leap out of Mycroft's car, bounding through his front door as he thrust the permission slip for the London trip into his mother's hands. With bemusement Violet Holmes signed her permission for the first ever school trip her youngest son had ever wanted to partake in. Sherlock went to take back the slip but his mother pulled it back before he got the chance.  
"Uh, uh" Violet teased lightly. "Firstly, Sherlock Holmes, you can tell me which brilliant soul has actually managed to get my elusive son to participate in a school run event."  
Sherlock rolled his eyes and snatched the signed paper. "It's a science trip. To London. What part of doesn't sound like something I'd want to do?"  
Violet sighed and leaned over to straighten Sherlock's tie, "Okay Sherlock, I'll let you run off to your room, I know you're dying to get away. But Sherlock, maybe you could actually show up for dinner tonight? For me?"  
Sherlock met his mother's eyes; "Fine, I'll come down at six" he mumbled, walking off to his room.  
The previous night has set the record for the third consecutive night Sherlock had missed dinner. He was certain his mother thought he had an eating disorder, but it wasn't that Sherlock deliberately skipped the meal – he just ended getting so wrapped up in his research (or whatever experiments he could manage to conduct in his tiny room) that he forgot stop for food. He knew that it was hurting his mother though, so he decided to just listen to some music on his iPod until it was time for dinner. Sherlock threw himself onto his bed, plug his earbuds into his iPod and closed his eyes.  
Sherlock awoke to the sound of The Neighbourhood and pulled out his earbuds, he checked the time: crap, it was quarter past ten; he hadn't realized how tired he must have been. Sherlock stood up, stretched and opened his door to see if anyone was awake. The house was pitch black – save the soft glow from Mycroft's room but that was to be expected, it was rare his older brother went sleep before one am. As Sherlock took a step forward his foot nudged the edge of a silver tray. His mother had left out a little note that read, ‘I’ve kept a plate of diner for you in the microwave, Love Mum x’, Sherlock felt a pang of guilt. He tiptoed into his parent's bedroom and kissed his mother's cheek, whispering "night mum" as he left to go brush his teeth and crawl back into bed.  
As he drifted off to sleep again Sherlock thought not of his mother as he should've done, but of John and how his teacher had been insisting for him to start eating more regularly.

For the first time in a long while Sherlock woke early and packed himself a lunch. It wasn't anything fancy, just a piece of fruit and a sandwich, but it was enough to put a smile on his mother's face and that was all he cared about. Well, that was all he thought he cared about, until he saw John beam at him as he pulled out the brown paper bag and he decided that if he could get John to smile at him like that every day then he would certainly be making more of an effort to eat lunch.  
"You do realize that it's just a sandwich right? I'm not eating a three-course meal here" Sherlock teased John.  
John swatted Sherlock's arm with the textbook he had paused marking in order to watch the teen eat. "I know that. It's just I don't think I've ever seen you eat before, I thought you just survived on carbonated drinks and chewing gum."  
It was Sherlock's turn to shove John. He stuck his tongue out and took another bite of his sandwich.  
"So," John started again, "You looking forward to Friday?"  
Sherlock nodded; his mouth currently occupied with eating.  
John chucked the textbook onto the marked pile and picked up another. "You ever been before?"  
Sherlock swallowed, "Nope. Never been to London either."  
John feigned shock. "Outrageous. I'll have to make sure I give you the sought after John Watson tour then shall I?"  
"I am honored, thank you John." Sherlock replied, hesitating when he realized he had used his teacher first name.  
John laughed at Sherlock's expression. "Sherlock please, don't look so worried, you're welcome to call me John when we're out of class. That's what friends do right?"  
"Friends?" Sherlock tried the word out in his mouth.  
"Sorry, I didn't mean it in a weird way, I only meant-" John went on.  
Sherlock shook his head. "No, you are my friend. I just don't have a lot of those, that's all.  
John smiles softly and placed his hand on Sherlock's arm. "Well then, it's a good thing you have me. Anyway, you should be heading back to lessons; the bell should be going soon."  
They said their usual goodbyes and as Sherlock sat in his fourth period he tried the word out again. 'Friend'. Yes, he very much liked the idea of John being his first proper friend.


	5. London Calling, Part One

The contents of Sherlock's satchel included his nearly full, but not just yet, A5 notepad –to record his favourite deductions; his 5x 30mm magnifier – a recent birthday present from Mycroft; a print-out titled 'How Not To Get Lost In London' – his mother had insisted; the second packed lunch he's ever bothered to make himself; his iPod; £20 and a packet of spearmint gum. It would be the first school trip Sherlock had ever been on, not to mention the teen's first time in London, and he wanted to be prepared – despite his brother's insistence that 'the most fun you'll get up to on a BSC trip is getting lost and winding up on the other side of London'. Screw him, Sherlock had come to the conclusion that he could be forced to listen the drivel Sally Donavan spouts on a daily basis, and as long as he was with John he knew he'd find a way to make it enjoyable. But he wasn't going to be listening to Sally Donavan all day; he was going to be at the Science Museum, and he was certain he would enjoy it, with or without John.

Sherlock had spent all the previous night researching which exhibitions he wanted to visit, he had decided on going to the Computing, Medical History and Psychology exhibitions first and then see what else was around. He'd even made sure he got an early night, which meant postponing his latest experiment analyzing fingerprints, so that he would be up on time the following day. Although Sherlock realised that it wouldn't have mattered much anyway, he had managed to get up and ready in less than five minutes; leaving him with a half hour wait before Mycroft was set to drive him to the train station to meet up with the rest of his class. Sherlock spent that time wondering what John was doing in that moment. Was he just waking up? Or, like Sherlock, had he woken early in anticipation? Maybe he was still fast asleep? Or was he awake, thinking of Sherlock as he was thinking of him?

In reality, John was wide awake, sprawled out on the couch where he had passed out the night before, feeling a horrible mixture of hungover and self-loathing. It had been a long time since John had drunk that much, it had taken him back to his teenage years. The last time John could recall getting that wasted had been after a particularly nasty row he'd had with Mary, how ironic. It had been nearly nine weeks since John had watched Mary walk out of their apartment with her bags packed and her belongings gone. Since Mary’s sister lived only a half hour away, his ex-girlfriend had decided to let John stay in the apartment, seeing as he himself had no immediate family nearby. Realistically John should have known that Mary would try and contact him again. It was stupid of him really, to think that he could just put Mary behind him and move on; the problem with Mary was that she always had to be in control. Which is why, at a quarter to midnight the night before she had turned up outside their old apartment, wanting to talk. John had known it was not a wise decision to pander to Mary’s demands, however he saw how much of a state she had gotten herself in and ever the doctor, had wanted to make sure she was at least safe. Nonetheless, the pair had ended up arguing heavily, to the point where John could no longer take it. John had given up around about an hour after Mary had turned up, which resulted in him calling Mary's sister and asking her to come collect her. However, this only angered Mary more and by the time she left the flat John felt so defeated that he allowed himself to get into the state that he had just awoken from. John groaned as he dragged himself off of his couch, he really should not have allowed last night to happen, not with the class trip to London today. Crap. The class trip, John checked his watch, he only had twenty minutes to get ready and meet his students at the train station. He hoped he could get away with just getting his students inside the museum and then he planned find a quiet corner to spend the rest of the day in. 

John arrived at the station with two minutes to spare, not that it mattered – even if you promise a bunch of teenagers a day out of classes, to go to London no less, there will always be one that rolls in at the last second, nearly making the whole class miss their train. But not to worry, they had all made it onto the carriage in one piece. John left the students to pair up with each other and find their seats before he took his own, ensuring it was as far back as he could go that without abandoning his students completely. John thanked fuck for the two substitute teacher that had agreed to accompany him and help manage the students. Without them, John was sure he would probably have lost at least two students by now.

Sherlock decided to let all the other students filter onto the train before hopping on himself. Luckily, Sherlock had seen that John had taken a seat at the far back of the carriage and so he started to head in that direction, hoping John would call him over. However, as Sherlock neared, he realised that not only was John looking hungover but his jumper was on back-to-front. At the disheveled sight of his teacher Sherlock suppressed his nerves and sat beside John without being prompted.  
"Huh, I guess sometimes, even twenty-five-year-old guys need help to get dressed properly." Sherlock joked as he sat down.  
John snapped out of his daydream to watch Sherlock as he placed his bag in the overhead compartment and sat beside him. "Wh..What?" he asked, sounding just as rough as he felt.  
Sherlock just rolled his eyes. "Your jumper is on backwards and, deduction skills or not, I can tell you're hungover."  
John grumbled as he corrected his jumper. "It's that obvious? Christ."  
"What happened? Your self-pity suggests that we're probably talking your average drunken night out? Possibly a one-night stand?" Sherlock inquired, somewhat hesitantly – he didn't know if he truly wanted to hear about a possible one-night stand John might have had.  
John studied the younger boy; it took a lot for John not to spill every detail of his life to Sherlock, there was something about him that made John feel interesting – like he was a mystery that Sherlock was dying to solve, and that scared the hell out of him. John didn't need to be told twice about the dangers of getting too close to a pupil. He wasn't stupid; he knew he was walking a fine line with Sherlock but he maintained the idea that as long as he held himself back a little, he wasn't doing anything wrong. With that in mind, he decided that it was okay for him to tell Sherlock about his fight with Mary; they were friends after all.  
"Not quite" John started, "My ex-girlfriend Mary, the one you deducted, showed up at my apartment last night and we ended up arguing quite a bit. Well, arguing is a bit of an understatement, we ended up smashing up my apartment and then I threw her out."  
Sherlock bit his lip and tensed up slightly. Maybe it was best to leave the subject alone; he had once written a report into what topics of conversation people reacted the worst to and had concluded that ex partners were at the top of the list.  
John noticed Sherlock’s reaction, forced a smile and clapped a hand on Sherlock's knee.  
"It’s okay Sherlock. I'm over it already; I just am yet to tell that to my face."  
Sherlock soften, he knew that John was lying but his friend had gone to the effort of trying to reassure him and so he felt compelled to play his part equally.  
"I'm sorry to hear that John, and for the record I think your face is just fine."  
John cocked his eyebrow, was that Sherlock's way of flirting with him? No, he must have misjudged the younger's tone. That didn't stop John, who was currently feeling more eighteen than twenty-five, from blushing and scratching at the stubble on his face.  
"Yeah, well… urm."  
"Yes John?" Sherlock replied, acting as innocent as he could whilst suppressing a grin.  
John didn't get a chance to answer however, because at the moment one of the supply teachers, Helen Jones, stumbled into the carriage after tripping over a students' bag. John was quick to move his hand from Sherlock's knee, something which Sherlock could help but be disappointed by.  
After picking herself up, Helen continued over to the pair and handed John a clipboard as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "John, I've taken the register, all kids are present so you can settle down and enjoy the journey."  
John smiled politely at Helen, thanked her and returned the clipboard to his bag. He was rather conscious of how hungover he must look and whilst he knew Helen would never say anything to get John in trouble, what he really did not need at that moment was a condescending lecture from a 'concerned' colleague.  
Unfortunately, Helen did not seem to notice John's discomfort and turned her focus on Sherlock. "Sherlock isn't it? Don't you think you'd like to sit over with your friends than all the way back here?"  
If it wasn't the way that she kept twirling her hair and looking at John, what annoyed Sherlock the most was the way that she put on a false and frankly patronizing tone to talk to him.  
"Well don't you think-" Sherlock was about to make some rather nasty, but nonetheless accurate, deductions about Miss Jones until he was cut off by John's hand on his shoulder.  
"I think Sherlock is alright here Helen, if he wants to sit here I have no problem with it." John gave Sherlock a reassuring smile and turned back to his colleague, who finally got the hint and left the pair alone, somewhat annoyed.  
"Thank you John, but I can move if you'd rather sit next to Miss Jones?" Sherlock moved to grab his bag but John pulled him back down.  
"Don't be silly Sherlock, you are far more interesting and much better company than Helen and if I'm being a little honest I think she may have a small crush on me."  
Sherlock quirked an eyebrow, "Forget a small crush, she's fairly infatuated with you, as is the rest of the female cohort at Baker Street Comp."  
"Yeah, right." John rolled his eyes at Sherlock and shook his head. Why would anyone fancy him? Okay he wasn't the ugliest person in the world, to some he could even be attractive, but to himself he was just plain. 'The safe option', that was what Mary had reduced him to in one of their numerous arguments. Reliable. Boring. Dull. So it was a mystery to John as to what anyone else could see in John.  
It was clear to Sherlock that John's denial of his appeal to the opposite sex wasn't a masked attempt to fish for complements, but rather a genuine failure to see the obvious. However, instead of trying to convince John otherwise, Sherlock thought it would be best just to keep quiet and not risk revealing just how attractive he found John to be. Sensing a slight awkward pause, John changed the subject to their trip to London and began to tell Sherlock about his own experiences at the Science Museum. The pair fell into natural conversation and before long found that they had reached King's Cross Station, all that was left to do was to hop on the underground for a few stops and then it was a short walk to the museum.

As the students filled out of the train carriage, led by John and the two other teachers, Sherlock decided to go find Molly – he didn't want to look like he was following John around like lost puppy. When he caught up with Molly she was more than happy to see him and welcomed him over to her small group. Out of the entire student body, Molly and her friendship group were the only pupils Sherlock could get on with, or even tolerate for that matter. After joining the small group Sherlock stuck with them as they got onto another tube and headed towards the nearest station to the museum, the South Kensington station. Much to his surprise, Sherlock found that he fitted in pretty well with Molly and her friends (Toby, Martha, Tom and Rebecca) and occasionally joined in with their conversations. Even so, when they reached the Science Museum, Sherlock slipped away from the group in favour of walking around the museum in solitude.

As he'd planned, Sherlock visited the three exhibitions he wanted to (Computing, Medical History and Psychology) before wandering round to see what first took his fancy.  
As he was walking around Sherlock caught sight of John sitting in the museum's café clutching a takeaway cup of coffee like his life depended on it. Sherlock headed over to him. "I did a study on coffee that suggested that those who drink it are at a lower risk of developing diseases such as Parkinson's, Type II Diabetes, and Heart Disease due to the antioxidants produced that fight off harmful chemicals in the body."  
John looked up as Sherlock pulled over a chair and sat opposite him. "Oh hello Sherlock, how are you finding the museum?"  
"It's wonderful, I just wish I could've seen a little more of London before we have to head back." As much as he was enjoying the Science Museum, Sherlock did really want to explore more of London.  
"Well, if you want," John quickly checked the time on his phone, "it's only 1:17 and we don't catch the train back until 4:30, so, I could take you to see a little more of London?"  
Sherlock grinned at John. "Are you serious? I would love to. But can we? I mean are we actually allowed to leave?"  
"Of course we can, I could do with some fresh air anyway." John stood up and threw his coffee cup in the bin; surely there was nothing wrong with showing Sherlock around some parts of London? After all, it would be a lot better than Sherlock choosing to leave by himself and getting lost in the process.  
As the pair left the café, Sherlock couldn't decide what he was more excited for, actually getting to explore a part of London or spending some time alone with John out of their usual school environment. Oh who was he kidding; of course it was the latter.


	6. London Calling, Part Two

John realised that taking Sherlock to his old medical school, St. Bartholomew’s Hospital, was not so much about fuelling Sherlock’s appetite for science, but more about impressing him. When he had suggested taking Sherlock around London for a quick whistle-stop tour, making the most of the last few hours they had in the city, St. Bart’s was the first place that crossed his mind. John wanted to show Sherlock the more interesting side of him, beyond being a biology teacher in a local town. John had been a doctor, an army doctor at that, he had seen more than his fair share of bloodshed and trouble and if he was honest with himself he bloody missed it. So why he felt the need to prove to Sherlock that he could be just as interesting and impressive as the latter could be was nearly beyond him. Nearly, but not quiet. As much as he would have protested if you asked him at this moment, John Watson was falling for Sherlock Holmes. He was brilliant and a genius and he reminded John of what it felt like to be alive, before he was shot and sent away from the front line. John knew that he was towing a thin line with his relationship with Sherlock and he knew he should feel guilty or wrong. But he didn’t. In two months’ time Sherlock would turn eighteen (John had shamelessly looked up the younger’s birthday on the registration system), that made him seven years younger than himself which should’ve turned John away, but Sherlock was like no other eighteen-year-old he had met before. Furthermore, in just around six months’ time, Sherlock would no longer be John’s pupil and their relationship would be free to blossom into whatever it may. John snapped himself out of his trail of thoughts, six months was a long time ago and better still, for the time being Sherlock was his pupil and John had promised himself that he would not take advantage of his friendship with Sherlock. How did he know that there was even a small possibility that Sherlock would ever reciprocate feelings for him? John really did need to get a grip, he reminded himself that he was the older one out of the two and pulled himself together, god forbid he get them lost in London and risk missing their train home.   
“If my memory suffices, Bart’s should be right around the corner” John called out to Sherlock, who had been a few steps behind John, taking in the sights of London, since they stepped out of the tube station that had brought them near the medical hospital.   
“And this is where you actually trained right?” Sherlock replied, still in awe of his surroundings. He knew that no one could truly fall in love with a city but he had a hard job telling his brain that.  
John smiled as he watched Sherlock take in his surrounding, he had never seen anyone look so taken with busy streets and a few old buildings, it was quite frankly cute as hell, and these days nothing rarely struck him as ‘cute’. “Yep. This is where I trained, I was practically your age when I first started.”  
“When I was your age’ Sherlock mimicked, “Christ John, you make yourself sound ancient, you’re what, twenty-four, twenty-five?”  
“Twenty-five and shut up, we’re here now” John teased and in an effort to distract from the current topic of conversation, dragged Sherlock by the hand threw the foyer of St. Bartholomew’s Hospital.   
Sherlock watched in bemusement as John blagged his way passed the front desk, telling the receptionist that he was here to give a seminar on ‘the future of medical sutures’ and that Sherlock was his teaching assistant. Somehow John’s fabrication was convincing enough that the receptionist gave both John and Sherlock visitors passes.   
“Right, where would you like to go first?” John asked an honestly ecstatic Sherlock “I can show you the science labs or the tech rooms. I can even show you the morgue if you’re up for that.”   
“The science labs, obviously” Sherlock joked, smirking at John “Do you even known me?”  
John chuckled and proceeded to lead Sherlock towards the nearest staircase; if his memory sufficed the science labs were located in the west wing of the second floor. It had been a lifetime since John had walked these corridors, before Afghanistan and his injury, but John didn’t feel as if he had been away for any longer than a day. Much to their amusement, the first laboratory they tried was inhabited by a class of medical students but after darting out, all the while suppressing the urge to giggle, the quickly found an uninhabited lab.   
“Miss it?” Sherlock inquired as he noticed the soft smile on his friends face as they entered the science laboratory.  
“Oh yes. Maybe not the whole being shot at part, buy yeah, I do miss it.” John replied. “Anyway, today is your day Sherlock, you’ve got an empty science lab – go wild.”  
With that Sherlock began fiddling with the equipment in the room, he knew they only had an hour or two at best and he wanted to make the most of it. He had his own equipment in his room, but that was nothing compared to the level of in-depth investigation he could achieve with the facilities here. 

After an hour or so of playing around with the equipment in the room, John decided that he’d take Sherlock for a quick bite to eat before they had to head back to the science museum to catch the train home. Luckily enough there was a small café right around the corner, just a short distance from the station they needed to head towards to catch the tube back to the museum. The pair chose a table by the window so that they could watch the passers-by. After a quick check of his watch John noted that he and Sherlock had just under an hour before they needed to set off, he concluded that this was just enough time to grab some food and quiz Sherlock a little. John ordered a bacon sandwich and a tea whilst Sherlock stuck to a black coffee, however at John’s instance added a small bowl of chips. Seeing as they were the only two in the café, not counting a little old lady tucked away in the back corner, their order came out quickly.  
“So how are you finding London?” John enquired through a mouthful of his sandwich.  
Sherlock nibbled a chip, “Honestly John, it’s beautiful. I was always attracted to the prospect of moving to a big city but I didn’t think I would be this taken in. I can see why you liked it so much.”  
John relished in the adoration Sherlock wore on his face. It was such a beautiful look on the younger man, and a rare one at that – so often John saw boredom or disdain cross Sherlock’s face that seeing him in adulation was delightful. “I must admit; I am quiet jealous Sherlock. Life in London can be overwhelming but I’m sure it’s going to be as exciting as you imagine. You’ll have to send me regular updates of your adventures.”  
“Does that mean you are turning down my offer of accompanying me?” Sherlock teased, as he feigned offence and pouted at John.  
John swatted him Sherlock’s arm and stole one of his chips. “Don’t be silly Sherlock, you wouldn’t really want me hanging around now would you?”  
“Why wouldn’t I want a brilliant doctor by my side to help with my cases?” Sherlock chimed, later concluding that his giddiness from being in the city was what gave him the confidence to flirt with John so forthright.  
“Yes, well, erm” John spluttered, doing all he could to stop his cheeks pinking.   
“Something wrong John?” Sherlock teased, taking a small delight in John’s blushing.  
Remembering where they were, John regained composure and rolled his eyes at his friends teasing. “Come on Sherlock” he called, checking the time on his watch, “we’ve got just enough time to catch the next tube back to the museum”.   
After giving a small tip to the café owner, the pair set off in the direction of the Mansion House Station, which would take them back to the science museum. They had a little time to spare when they stepped off at the South Kensington Station and, in taking the scenic route back, John decided he would use this time to ask Sherlock a little more about himself.   
“So Sherlock, we’ve spoke a lot about your future plans, but you’ve mentioned very little of your past. I can’t help but presume that the incident with Charlie Magnussen, back on the day we met, may not have been a one-off?”  
Sherlock scoffed, “No. Quite tediously, I was a favourite of his to tease – although it never was anything more than the odd shove or unintelligent insult”.   
John frowned slightly, “I am sorry to hear that Sherlock, I can sympathize somewhat, I didn’t exactly have the easiest schooling experience either. In my first year of college I had this on-off relationship with a classmate, but they weren’t ready to be open and when the relationship came out… well he turned nasty”.  
“He?” Sherlock started “But I thought? I mean Mary?”  
John chuckled. “And I thought you were meant to be a genius. I’m bisexual. I’m not exactly open about it, but I don’t hide it.” He paused and decided to make a deduction of his own, “And I don’t think you should either”.  
It was Sherlock’s turn to blush. Not because he was ashamed (‘a Holmes is many things, but ashamed is never one of them’ his brother frequently told him), but because John had been able to deduce something that Sherlock had not seen in John himself.  
“I’m not bisexual, at least I don’t think I am. Emotions can sometimes be beyond me, not usually my own – but it can happen. I do think, however, that I am gay”. Sherlock paused, he’d never actually said those words out loud. Mycroft knew, but then Mycroft knew everything. However, Sherlock did not regret confiding in John, if anything he felt as if their recent display of honesty with each other had brought them closer together. 

But before the pair could discuss it further, the sight of the Science Museum was quickly upon them. A sudden sadness hit Sherlock, his time in London, whilst extremely thrilling, had come to a short end. Nonetheless, his day had been wonderful and more than that, he had spent some quality time with John. Quite some time in fact and without wanting to raise any eyebrows, he decided he should maybe sit with Molly for the duration of the train ride home. John also shared this thought, although he didn’t verbalize this. He let Sherlock go off to find his friend, but not before pulling him into a brief, yet warm, embrace. As he watched Sherlock rejoin his peers John reflected on the day, he’d only just notice that his hangover had disappeared hours ago. Not only had his hangover been cured, but John had actually had a greatly enjoyable day. Though this shouldn’t really have been surprising, he had spent the day running around London with Sherlock, even if they had just visited his old medical hospital. One thing was clear to John however, he was most definitely falling for Sherlock Holmes, and he knew it.

And whilst Sherlock may not yet have noticed John’s growing attraction, someone else had. Although John was oblivious to the fact that his colleague, Helen Jones, was starting to grow suspicious of his relationship with Sherlock.


	7. Christmas Apprehension

Since his trip to London Sherlock had not stopped thinking about the city, he had only been able to spend half a day in London and he was eager to return as soon as he could. Sherlock had always known that London was the place for him, he need the speed and intensity of the city to keep his mind entertained. When he used to imagine life in London he would first picture the flat he and Mycroft would be sharing, thankfully his brother would be spending the majority of his time in Downing Street and wouldn’t be home that often. Sherlock would picture himself in the well-furnished flat (a Downing Street intern would receive no less) with the lounge set up as his meeting rooms for clients – people who would present him with interesting and complicated cases. He also imagined that the flat would be home to an array of on-going experiments and specimens ready for him to conduct thorough analyses. Before Sherlock had ever experienced London he had always thought that rather than feel anxious at the prospect of being virtually alone in big city, he would thrive of it. He would have Mycroft of course, but in order to fully focus on his work and research, Sherlock wanted to keep social distractions to a minimum. But this was before Sherlock had visited London and since the trip he had realised just how much he thrived off of John’s company. Sherlock knew it was silly to even entertain the thought that John would want to come with him to London, John had his own life of course, but it didn’t mean that he wouldn’t miss his friend. He had also quickly come to realise that with the approaching Christmas holidays, he would have to go a whole three weeks without seeing John – something that he was more than a little dismayed by. Their time together in London had been extra special for Sherlock as it was the first time the pair had met outside of the classroom. Sherlock felt as if he had gotten to see the real ‘John Watson’, the man behind the teacher. It really shouldn’t have surprised him when John revealed his true sexual orientation, all the signs were there, however certain human emotions, especially that of physically attraction were sometimes lost on Sherlock. That was why his growing feelings for John terrified him so much. Sherlock had always been able to count on his sound mental judgements, but when John was around he always found himself distracted. Nonetheless, Sherlock also found that being with John gave him a bit of a head rush, particularly when John was so fond of complimenting him or his work – it wasn’t very often that Sherlock felt admired, and rarer still that he was so attracted to the admirer. However, Sherlock was also aware that when he was next to see John, they lunchtime meetings had become routine, that the pair would have to be a little more reserved than they had been in London. If he was being honest with himself, Sherlock was getting a little fed up of only being able to see John whilst he was acting as his teacher, if they were truly friends then it shouldn’t matter if they spent time together outside of lessons. He decided that during their next lunch together he would suggest that the pair try and meet up over the Christmas holiday. 

In the time since John had visited London with a group of his students he had had a lot of time to reflect on how that day had affected him. It wasn’t necessarily that anything out of the ordinary had happened, other than himself and Sherlock ditching the rest of the class to go exploring London on their own, but rather John had experience quiet a personal revelation. Okay, so he had always known that his feelings towards Sherlock’s were a little more than platonic, but it had taken the time they had spent together in London for John to realise that he was such a strong attraction to his younger friend. John didn’t know if it was because Sherlock reminded him of his better days as a soldier, or if it was that his intelligence was beyond that of anyone else John had met before. Either way, his attraction to Sherlock was completely different to what he had felt to for Mary, with Mary everything had been so safe and predictable, not automatically a bad thing, but overtime the spark they first shared had fizzled out. So when John realised his feelings for Sherlock and experienced that spark all over again, he knew that he had to be extremely careful as not to compromise his position at the school. It wouldn’t be right of him to let his emotions show whilst he was still acting as Sherlock’s teacher and what was even to say that Sherlock would reciprocate his feelings. Regardless, John knew that he would have to tone down his behaviour when around his student, or at the very least stop gushing when he made impressive deductions. 

It was the first day back since the class trip to London that previous Friday and Sherlock was feeling more than a little apprehension. It was as if they pair had shared a moment of intimacy with one another, but now had to go back to pretending that they were no more than teacher and student. Sherlock was eager not to overstep a line with John, he was his student after all and Sherlock did not want to let a schoolboy crush affect the career of someone he care about. As usual he waited for the lunch bell to ring out before heading over to John’s room, he had always thought it would be best to give it a little time so that all of John’s students had filed out of the classroom before he entered himself. Today was no different to the many other times he had spent his lunches with John, however Sherlock could tell instantly that something was not quite wrong with John. In the days before their trip to London Sherlock had noticed that John would brighten up the minute Sherlock stepped through the door and more often than not would put aside whatever he was doing to engage in conversation with him. However, when Sherlock entered the biology classroom this time he watched as John called out a quick ‘hello’ without taking his eyes away from his pile of books to be marked. Sherlock observed that this was more than likely a forced effort not to look directly at Sherlock as it was an obvious change in John’s usual behaviour. Why he did not want to be seen to look directly at Sherlock he did not know, and he didn’t like not knowing. He decided to hope that he was just overlooking John’s reaction and make causal conversation.  
“Hey John, did you have a good weekend?” Sherlock made sure to hide the fact that he’d noticed John’s change of character.  
Sherlock’s effort to act as though nothing was wrong seemed to ease John a little, he decided that he didn’t need to be so restrained that he wouldn’t even look at the boy. John was reminded of a time back when he was in college, when he was so infatuated with a girl in his class that he could not look her in the eye for fear of revealing his feelings to her.  
“Hmm, same old, same old. Yourself?”  
Sherlock rolled his eyes, he had picked up on John’s behaviour relaxing a little and this eased his own apprehension. “Boring. As usual and quite obvious when compared to the day I had on Friday.”  
“True, that was quite a day. You definitely took to the city environment” John smiled.  
“Well after being cooped up in this small town my whole life, it was like a breath of fresh air. Although maybe not a literal one – it will be very interesting to study the effects of pollution levels on the minds of criminals.” Sherlock noted.  
John’s smiled widened to a grin, he loved the way Sherlock’s mind performed, like he was always working. As they sometime did, John let Sherlock set up a small experiment whilst he continued to mark the results of the last biology test he gave to his year eleven class. Thankfully it was a comfortable silence that the pair fell into, they just always seemed to click, no matter what each other were doing.  
After setting up the experiment, Sherlock sat back and waited for the chemical reaction he needed to take place. He decided to use the natural pause in his work to bring up to John the idea of meeting over the Christmas break.  
“So John, I was thinking,” Sherlock began, “seeing as we’re about to break up for the Christmas holiday and we’re going to be apart – I mean away – for a few weeks, maybe we could erm… meet up sometime during that time?”  
Fuck. Sherlock cursed himself, why was he acting like an idiot, he had never become so tongue-tied around John before.  
John tried his best not to look taken back. It was not that he did not want to see Sherlock during the Christmas break, on the contrary, he would have loved to be able to spend more time with him. It was just that seeing Sherlock outside of the classroom would be a bigger step than he probably realised. Bunking off of the school trip to gallivant round London was one thing, but if the pair were to meet under non-educational purposes, certain questions might be asked. John realised that he was taking a bit too long to answer.  
“Erm yeah sure, if you’d like” he replied, biting his lip a little.  
“Oh okay, cool.” Sherlock was all too aware that John was trying to brush him off, but in an attempt to conceal his own embarrassment he tried to busy himself back into his experiment.  
John could tell that Sherlock was hurt by his dismissive reply, it actually pained him a little to see the boy so disheartened. He did not like having to give Sherlock the cold shoulder, but he had promised himself that he would not compromise his position as a teacher – not until Sherlock was not long a pupil of his at least. He just wished he knew how to tell Sherlock that his withdrawal was not a genuine attempt to distance each other.  
As if by some clichéd miracle the school-bell rang out, signalling the end of the lunch break. Sherlock quickly packed up his experiment, not wanting to make things any less uncomfortable and said a hurried goodbye as he darted off to his next class. 

John sighed as he watched Sherlock leave so uneasily, he vowed to find a way to explain to Sherlock his difficult position without revealing his true feelings. If there was such a way of course. John retuned back to his books, he had only managed to mark three test papers and his year eleven class were timetabled in for the lesson after next. As John sat down to continue his grading, the substitute teacher that had joined him on the class trip to London, Helen Jones, walked into his classroom.  
“Oh hey John, I don’t suppose you have a minute do you?” Helen seemed to insisting, rather than asking.  
John stopped marking, again. “Fire away.”  
“Okay, please don’t think I’m over stepping here John,” Helen was trying to be as polite as possible, “but I just wanted to make sure that you weren’t feeling uncomfortable with the attention shown to you by some of the pupils”.  
John paused. “You mean Sher-”  
“-I mean the students that show a clear interest in you” Helen cut John off in an effort to keep their conversation necessarily vague.  
John was thankful for Helen’s discretion but really did not want to be having this conversation. “I see where you’re coming from Helen and I appreciate your concern, but honestly I think I have the situation under control. Really though, I don’t think it is anything more than silly infatuation.”  
Both teachers knew that the conversation was about more than a few girls crushing on John, but luckily for John, Helen was taking a very professional approach to the matter.  
“Well that was all really John, but if it does get... out of hand, shall we say, you know where to find me.” Helen gave John a forced smiled and exited the classroom.  
John was left to reflect on the conversation he had just had. He knew that Helen was not threatening him or coming from an accusatory position, if anything she seemed to think that Sherlock was the one showing feelings for him – not the other way around. Even so, Helen may not have been warning him, but that did not mean that John should not take this as a warning sign. Sherlock still had five months of classes left at Baker Street Comprehensive and John did not want to put either of them in any awkward situations. But at the same time John did not want to have to pull away, if he had to cut ties with Sherlock, even for a short while, it would really trouble him. John hoped that the Christmas holidays would give them a little breathing space and that when they came back they could return to just acting as friends. John could no longer kid himself that he was attracted to Sherlock, and even more he had some gut feeling that Sherlock must be at least a little attracted to John – his behaviour earlier that day indicated that he wanted to spend more time alone with John. That was why John took it upon himself to promise that he would ensure that they both did not cross a line that might ruin what they could have.

 

Sherlock sat in his last biology class of that term, technically he had biology classes on a Friday too, but on the last day of term his school allowed their students to take the day off. This meant that this fifth period biology class would be the last opportunity he had to see John before they broke for the holidays. Sherlock was aware that he was exhibiting the same behaviour that John had when they had met after the London trip, but Sherlock just couldn’t bring himself to look him in the eye. It hadn’t really shocked him that he was so hurt by John’s earlier signs of withdrawal from him, Sherlock guessed that maybe he had been too full on in London and that John was starting to regret befriending him. Consequently, Sherlock was feeling more than a little upset and frankly, a bit pissed off. He vowed that in order of saving John the trouble of making some half-hearted attempt to excuse himself from meeting him, which would just embarrass the both of them, Sherlock would just exit the class without saying another word. Which is exactly what he did and when the class finished he forced himself not to look at John – he feared if he did his resolve would break and he would find himself drawn to John once again. 

John realised the moment Sherlock left his class without a word of goodbye that he had upset the boy, more than that John knew he must have really hurt him. John cursed himself, he should never have let Helen’s comments unnerve him, he should’ve made an effort to apologise to Sherlock before the class had ended. Of course John had not wanted to cross a line with Sherlock, but he most definitely did not want to lose him. John realised that he’d have to do an awful lot to make it up to Sherlock, but he’d be damned if he let that boy slip away from him.


	8. It's Just A Christmas Card

Sherlock was never known for being overly fond of Christmas, in fact it was probably his least favourite holiday, but this year round he was more miserable than usual. He kept replaying his last moments with John over and over again in his head, maybe he shouldn’t have stormed off like he did. John probably already thought of Sherlock as just a teenage boy and Sherlock’s behaviour that day would’ve only made the assumption worse. If John been pulling away before, Sherlock was certain this would most definitely drive him further from Sherlock. Nonetheless, he still forced a smile onto his face, if only for his mother and father’s faces, he knew he wasn’t the best of sons and so around Christmas time he always tried to make more of an effort. 

This was easier said than done however, as Sherlock’s mother had what could only be described as a profound passion for Christmas festivities. To both Sherlock and Mycroft’s misfortune this meant that over the holidays, the pair were asked, or rather politely forced, to join their mother in an array of Christmas activities. But that day had run a little differently, as with only a two days left till Christmas day, Violet Holmes thought it a good idea to give her sons the morning off to head into town to do their own Christmas shopping. Although not overjoyed by the idea of going shopping, Sherlock usually left it up to Mycroft to purchase their parents gifts, it did feel good to get some air and clear his head a little. Never one to drag out a task, Mycroft had efficiently managed to complete both Holmes brothers’ shopping in under an hour, leaving them an hour or so to spare before their mother wanted them home. Sherlock and Mycroft’s aunt and uncle were coming over for dinner on Christmas day and so they were expected to help prepare the house. The brothers decided to just go somewhere they could grab a coffee and sit down for a while before they were required to socialise. In a rather rare moment of brotherly affection Mycroft questioned Sherlock on his recent unhappy behaviour.  
“I know Christmas isn’t your favourite time of the year, believe me I share your distain, but you seem to be more glum than usual, is anything the matter?” Mycroft asked.  
“I’m fine, honestly Mycroft. I guess I’m just overtired with all the stress of exams” Sherlock lied. Normally Sherlock would make some remark about Mycroft being too nosy for his own good, but he realised that his brother was being genuinely empathetic for once. Still, it would do no good to confess to Mycroft that he was actually just pining for his biology teacher.  
“Hmm, if you say so Sherlock.” Mycroft clearly did not believe his younger brother; however, he wasn’t about to launch into a heart-to-heart in the middle of a Starbucks. 

Sherlock quickly changed the conversation onto how terribly they both thought the family Christmas dinner might go. It wasn’t a secret that Violet Holmes and her sister had more than a little sibling rivalry, it clearly ran in the family, and when together for longer than a few hours, the two sisters usually ended up bickering about something or other. Sherlock suggested that that they might last three hours before an argument broke out, Mycroft argued two and a half. As conversation eased away from the subject of Sherlock’s mopey attitude, he lightened up a little and even found himself enjoying his time with Mycroft. The brothers took their time finishing their coffees before heading back to Mycroft’s car, both because they actually were having fun and as a way of prolonging having to go home to a list of chores. 

 

Even as a child Sherlock was not an early riser on Christmas Day, it was rarer if he roused before eleven o’clock, and this was usually only if Mycroft came to wake him. It wasn’t that Mycroft was any fonder of the day, he just always woke up in the early hours – usually to fit in as much work as he could before his mother insisted he ‘put away that damn computer for once’. This year was no different and as usual Mycroft appeared in his doorway at precisely ten thirty. Sherlock had fiercely tried negotiated with mother for a later start to the day, by Violet had insisted that he must get up then as his aunt and uncle were set to come round at midday. Sherlock grumbled and forced himself to sit up in bed, Mycroft had already turn on his lights so he had no hope of returning back to sleep.  
“Here, I got you something Sherlock. I know you needed new one.” Mycroft said, handing Sherlock a small parcel.  
It was a brand new scientific eye glass. Sherlock didn’t know that Mycroft had it in him to be so thoughtful, or that he had known that his last one had broken just days ago.  
“I know we normally say no gifts but you just seemed so down over the last few days that I-” Mycroft began.  
“I got you something too, just to say thank you for always having my back.” Sherlock cut his brother off before he tried to make an attempt to explain his new found kindness.  
He watched as Mycroft unwrapped the gift he had brought him, a pair of sterling cufflinks.  
A rare smile crossed Mycroft’s face and he thanked Sherlock for the present.  
“We really are a sentimental pair aren’t we” he chuckled, “now come on, mother is expecting us”.  
“Time to face the family dinner” Sherlock replied.  
The brothers grimaced and headed downstairs to join the rest of their family.

 

For one of the first times in the last five or so years, John Watson was able to spend his Christmas with a sober sister. Christmas was always a difficult time for Harriet Watson and normally she hid herself away from her brother when times were rough. John had thought it best to have Harry over to his for dinner, just so he could make extra sure there were no hidden bottles she could reach for. It was ever so slightly unnerving for John to see his sister so well (she was nearly at seven months of sobriety), almost as if he were standing around a repaired vase, hoping it wouldn’t fall again. Nonetheless, it was good to see his sister so well and John decided to put his doubts aside for once and just appreciate her company. The pair quickly fell into conversation, both having a lot to fill the other in on, and naturally, the subject of romantic interests came up.  
“I see Mary’s not in the picture anymore then?” Harry politely inquired, clearly noticing the presence of a woman’s touch around John’s apartment.  
John force a smile, “Sadly not no. We split about, oh err, four months ago now”.  
“I’m sorry to hear that, I did always like Mary, but anyway plenty more fish in the sea – speaking of which, anyone new?” Harry asked with a mixture of teasing and genuine curiosity”.  
“No, not really” John replied a little too quickly to sound sincere.  
Harry cocked an eyebrow, “Not really as in you’re seeing quite a few ‘new’ people or not really as in you’re seeing one new person but you’re too secretive to tell your big sister?”  
“Not really as in change the subject Harry.” John rolled his eyes but this only made Harry more excitable.  
“Oh go on John, who is she?” Harry waited for John to respond, but John just ignored his sister and instead got up to start on the dinner.  
“Ah so it’s a ‘he’ this time” she tried again and was delighted when John turned around as if to say something, only to realise that he’d given himself up.  
“Please Harry,” John appealed, “just drop it”.  
He had been feeling like a complete arse ever since he dismissed Sherlock’s suggestion of meeting over the holidays and was worried that he might have pushed him too far away. John realised he couldn’t even confide in his sister; she may have her own vices but she would still disapprove highly if she found out her brother was falling for a pupil. Fortunately, Harry sensed her brother’s discomfort and quickly changed the subject, reminding John that if they wanted to eat before dark then he should really get on with cooking. Grateful for the distraction, John followed his sister’s orders and made a start on the dinner. Whilst cooking John thought of a way he could make a small gesture of apology to Sherlock, hopefully it would be enough to get him talking to John again, he would just have to pop out after dinner… 

 

Back in the Holmes household dinner was an amusing affair, at least it was for Sherlock and Mycroft. In actual fact, Violet and her sister had started arguing after only an hour and a half of being in each other’s company. Their back-and-forth insults were a welcomed highlight to what was usually a tedious day for the Holmes brothers. Whilst this had improved Sherlock’s mood a little, it hadn’t been enough to fully distract him from missing John. He had made a promise to himself that for his mother’s sake he would remain present until his aunt and uncle had left. Sadly, they had hung around for a little longer than Sherlock, or anyone else really, would have liked. By the time they had actually left the Holmes’, Sherlock had grown quite tired and was thankful of being able to excuse himself to bed. As his mother said goodbye to their guests and waved them off at the front door, Sherlock too his opportunity to slip away upstairs. He was just too tired for the ‘goodnight’ formalities. However, his restlessness (a result of missing John) had surpassed his tiredness and he was unable to drop off. After fruitless attempts to fall asleep Sherlock gave up and turned his bedside lamp on, if he couldn’t sleep then he might as well read. He picked up the nearest book, The Buzz and Bees: Biology of a Superorganism, and started to read. Sherlock had only made it through one chapter before his mother knocked on his door, he was always able to tell his mother’s knock – soft and polite.  
“Come in,” Sherlock called out.  
“Hey Lockie, just wanted to check you were okay?” Violet inquired as she entered the room.  
Sherlock had never warmed to his mother’s nickname for him, which she had used since his birth, and would normally berate her for it. However, he had vowed to make an effort to be nice today and so chose to let it slide.  
“Honestly mother you worry too much,” he chided, before adding, “but thank you for today, I know how much time and energy you put into making today happen. Dinner was lovely”.  
Sherlock had made sure to finish his whole plate of food, or the sake of his mother.  
Violet beamed at her son, kissed him goodnight and turned to leave – satisfied that her son was fine and well.  
“Oh Sherlock,” she started, passing him an envelope she had neatly tucked away in her cardigan pocket, “this came through the post for you today. Does someone have an admirer?”.  
“I bet it’s just a Christmas card,” Sherlock replied, ignoring his mother’s gleeful look.  
Sherlock eyed the envelope apprehensively, but thanked his mother nonetheless. He wondered who might have gone to the trouble of writing him a Christmas card. Perhaps it was Molly? It was most likely Molly. Not one for surprises, Sherlock tore the envelope with haste. It read: 

 

Dear Sherlock,  
I’ve been an arse, a complete arse. I let other people’s judgments influence my behaviour and for that I’m sorry. I hope I can have the opportunity to apologise to you properly. Merry Christmas, 

John Watson. 

John. Sherlock felt a wave of joy, pure joy. Quickly followed by what he was ashamed to admit was giddiness. Sherlock has feared that John’s changed in behaviour was a result of him trying to distance himself from Sherlock. He now knew that was not the case. Not only had John felt bad for how he had acted, but he had made the effort to convey this to Sherlock. All of a sudden Sherlock could not wait to return back to school.


	9. John's Deduction - Sort Of

It was Sherlock’s first day back after the Christmas holidays, just a little over a week since he had received John’s apology. Sherlock had read over John’s card more times than he cared to admit, he could probably quote it word for word if he had the desire to do so. At first Sherlock had been desperate to see John, he was even tempted to try and find his teacher’s address online – but he quickly dismissed the idea. He might not get the reaction he hoped for if he just turned up to John’s unannounced. Moreover, the initial joy Sherlock had felt from receiving the card had dwindled slightly as the teenager’s anxiety got the better of him. Whilst he was in no doubt of John’s sincerity, he was all too aware of the clear signs of dismissal that his teacher exhibited after Sherlock tried to arrange a meeting during the break. As a result, Sherlock was unable to sit still and fidgeted profusely as his waited for John to arrive to class. John finally strode through the door, quite clumsily Sherlock noticed; he deduced the teacher had overslept, clearly he had become used to not waking up early over the holiday.   
For the entirety of the class the pair failed to make eye contact, admitted both were not going out of their way to avoid looking at the other. It just happened to be that there was an atmosphere in the room; a culmination of Sherlock’s anxiety and John’s guilt. The lesson proceeded normally, the tension in the room apparent only to the two friends. Sherlock distracted himself by absorbing the flight pattern of a lone sparrow, whilst John tried to focus solely on introducing his class to the wonders of DNA.   
As John’s lecture drew to a close, the atmosphere between him and Sherlock had barely eased.   
Fuck it. John decided that he was going to be the bigger person and make real amends. “Sherlock, if you don’t mind. I’d like a quick word”.  
The class gave a theatrical “Ooh”.  
Sherlock gave no vocal reply, and instead just nodded. He waited for the class to vacate the classroom, consciously ignoring Magnussen’s taunt, “You’re in trouble Holmes”, before walking over to John. He noted the similarities between his nervousness at present and the nervousness he felt the first day John had called him back. “I… er, I got your card… Thanks?”  
John hated seeing the boy in a state of such unease, his guilt ate away at him knowing it was a result of his own actions. “Sherlock, I won’t insult you by trying to excuse my behaviour, but maybe I could explain?”.  
“My behaviour the other day, I apologise for being so cold. Firstly, I know it was unfair to be so distant, it mustn’t have made sense after being close in London. It’s my fault of course – as the adult I should’ve been more aware that to others our relationship could appear to be beyond that of a normal teacher/student. It wasn’t until Miss Jones approached me with her concerns that I realised how it might look. Although I understand acting how I did wasn’t fair to you.”  
Sherlock took a minute to digest what John was saying. He had been so wrapped up in concealing his feelings for John that he had failed to realise that others might have started to question the pairs daily meetings. Shit. Did that mean they could also have noticed how Sherlock felt for his teacher? Did that mean John had noticed? He shook his head, if John truly knew then he was certain that he wouldn’t want anything to do with him. He can’t know.   
“Then what has changed?” he managed, still trying to figure out how obvious he had been.  
“Well, I mean, she’s left now, was offered a job at a private school in the next village”. John admitted. “I know that’s not the point-” he began before being cut off by Sherlock.  
“So because some substitute teacher had an opinion, you decide you don’t want to be friends” Sherlock couldn’t help but sound bitter. “Oh but then, when she leaves and you don’t have to be ashamed anymore, it’s fine for you to be seen with me”.   
Sherlock got up to leave but was pulled back by John.   
“Sherlock, do you really not get it?” John marvelled, “I’m not ashamed to be seen with you, I just don’t want to lose my job to idle gossip”.   
Sherlock bit his lip, feeling a little foolish for being so mad at John. Of course their relationship must look odd to the outsider and the risk of such implications would be worse for his teacher. As smart as he believed himself to be, he had a habit of missing the obvious.  
“Do you want me to stop coming over as much?”   
“No.” John insisted. “That’s not what I want at all. I’m not going to let silly insinuations dictate who I am or am not friends with. I mean we’re just friends right?”  
Sherlock refused to dwell on John’s last comment. “Yes, of course John”.  
John’s face lit up, glad they could put the past weeks behind them. “Good, because I have a little surprise for you. It seems you’re not the only one who can make clever deduction.” John reached into his bag and pulled out an envelope containing two travel passes to London. He had brought them as a backup in case his apology failed, but was glad to give them out on better terms. Sherlock viewed the contents delightedly.   
“John, not that I’m not grateful, because truly I am, like wow, thank you.” He was rambling, pull it together Sherlock. “I just mean; I don’t really see the deduction”.  
John grinned, “I booked them for the thirteenth of the month, your birthday”.  
“How? I didn’t say?” Sherlock asked.   
“Just clever aren’t I” John replied. “Well that and it’s on the registration system.”  
Sherlock chuckled, “Ah I see, well anyway thank you John, it was a good deduction – sort of”.  
“Brilliant, now bugger off, we all have homes to get to” John teased and pretended to shoo his friend away.  
Sherlock grabbed his bag and started to leave, but decided to give John a quick hug before he did.


End file.
